


if you had a part of me

by caswell



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love, Weddings, downer ending, sorry jared, the others are there but they dont really speak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 08:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18442598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswell/pseuds/caswell
Summary: Jared's heart has a habit of yearning for what it can't have. It never wanted his boyfriends, not even the kindest of them. And when Evan proposes to Zoe, it aches more than it ever has.





	if you had a part of me

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Ithiel (seasaltvamp on tumblr), Iris (christinecanigula on tumblr) and Rafi (faewaren on tumblr) for the help!  
> TW for emetophobia from ["]I swear to God-" to the end of the scene, and a very mild mention of self-harm in the sentence following "Again, Jared finds himself jealous of Zoe to the point of nausea.".

The first one’s name is Ray. He’s some kid from camp that Jared’s known for four years but never really got close to until now; sad gay kids flock to each other, he supposes. Ray’s nice- too nice for Jared, honestly- and supportive, and really, their relationship could have been amazing if it weren’t for one little hitch. “Little”- yeah, right. Jared’s feelings for Evan are a helluva lot bigger than just a hitch.

“You’ve been so distant lately,” Ray says one day as they sit across from each other at a Starbucks table, post-scones, pre-departure. “Is everything okay? You’re worrying me.”

Everything’s not okay. Jared’s in love with his- he'll admit it- best friend, not his boyfriend who he’s supposed to love and cherish. Well, he does love and cherish Ray, just… not in the way he deserves. “I’m fine,” he lies. 

Fast forward seven months. Ray’s long gone, barely keeping in touch, and, while Jared will miss his company, there’s no ache of longing in his chest for anyone but Evan. Travis is a desperate attempt to fill the Evan-shaped hole in his heart, and he almost looks like him a little- the same sandy hair and big, brown eyes. It’s not enough.

“I just feel like you don’t really see me for me.” Travis pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath in, then out. “I don’t want to fight anymore, okay? I just... need you to know how I feel.”

“I’m  _ sorry,”  _ is all Jared can say. And he is sorry- sorry for Travis, sorry for himself, sorry for Ray, sorry for the girl he kissed during a game of spin the bottle before he came out of the closet. Not that she wanted to kiss him. Who would? Not the people- the person- he wants.

 

Evan, of course, wants Zoe Murphy. Evan has wanted Zoe Murphy since he was a junior in high school and she was a sophomore.

Evan, of course, got what he wanted. Their first kiss was in October of his senior year. They’ve been going steady ever since- two years, now.

Evan,  _ of course,  _ doesn’t want Jared.

 

Years go by. Jared’s relationship with Jess almost lasts six months- longer than any other relationship he’s been in. Jess is great, truly; he’s got looks, he’s got intellect, he’s got… some degree of kindness. Jared doesn’t want him. It eats him alive sometimes, taking him in with somber eyes as he lies beneath the sheets, blank-faced. He  _ wants  _ to want him. He wants desperately to love Jess, to take him in his arms- or, God forbid, allow himself to be taken in his- and tell him all the kind things he deserves to hear.

But, to many people's surprise, Jared has a heart, and there’s no way to pretend without the guilt eating him up inside. It claws through his chest like one of those little bitches from  _ Alien _ , which he watched with Evan, and goddamn, everything comes back to Evan, Evan, Evan. 

So he breaks up with Jess. And Evan, the bastard, proposes to Zoe.

 

The kicker is, it’s not like Jared’s all that distant from Evan. It’s not a pining-from-miles-away type thing anymore. He’s learned to let his walls down just a bit, just for Evan, since high school. Sure, he keeps his whole crush thing under layers and layers of wraps, but they’re close enough that Evan can do this:

“Will you be my best man?”

Jared raises his head, pushes his glasses up to settle on the bridge of his nose again. “...Will I what?” 

“Will you be my best man,” Evan repeats, less of a question now than a statement. “I mean, I was thinking, I’ve known you since we were, like, five. You’re still my closest friend, and… I don’t know. I want you to be in my wedding.”

Jared barely holds back a scoff. This is just the cherry on top of the shit cake that is his romantic life. Of course! Of  _ course  _ Evan would ask him to be his best man, to congratulate his longtime crush on marrying somebody else. Zoe’s a great girl, yeah, and Evan deserves someone like her, but… it still hurts. 

“...Jared?” Evan cocks his head, taps nervous fingers on the table that shines under dim lamps. He’d offered to take Jared out to his favorite restaurant; now he understands why. “Um, look, if you don’t want to do it, I can ask someone else.” 

Jared clears his throat, blinks hard, opens his eyes again. “No, no, I want to do it. I’m just, uh, not great at speeches.” He manages a smile, a cocky grin that reveals nothing- at least, he hopes it does.

“Well, you can’t be any worse than me,” Evan says, and sighs. “I still remember that  _ Great Gatsby  _ presentation. God, that was a freakin’ nightmare.” 

Despite everything, and despite it being sort of a dick move, Jared chuckles at the memory. “Yeah, I remember that, too.”

“Hey, I’ve gotten better,” Evan says, hunching his shoulders and withdrawing into himself slightly. And he has; you wouldn’t get it out of him if you held him at gunpoint, but Jared is really,  _ really  _ impressed. Then again, it doesn’t take much for Evan to impress him.

“I know,” he says simply. “Um, thanks for asking me. It means a lot?” The words are hesitant, unconfident, and Jared flinches internally at how pussyesque they sound. He can’t let Evan know anything- not a single thing. Everything has to be fine. Everything will have to be fine.

 

The thing about best man speeches are that they’re hard as hell to write, even if you’re not in love with the groom. Jared paces like a tiger in a cage around his kitchen table, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the floor. He nearly trips over a chair once or twice before he scooches it further beneath the table.

“I’ve known Evan for close to twenty years-” No. “If I could describe Evan in one word, it would be-” No. “When Evan met Zoe-” Well, that’s just too damn painful. Jared takes a shuddering breath in, then lets it out, clenching his fists until his fingernails dig white crescent shapes into his palms.

He mustn’t cry, he  _ can’t  _ cry, but traitorous tears prick at Jared’s eyes as he finally sits down at the table, staring at the notecards he’s laid out for himself. It’s disgusting, truly, how he has to wipe his eyes over this, dragging a wrist across his face in an effort to stop the welling up. It only makes it worse- now his eyes are stinging.

Finally, he writes.

_ When Evan first laid his eyes on Zoe, I knew this was going to be the start of something big. I was the first one he ever told, I think, blabbing to me all the time about his huge, gushy crush on the mysterious Zoe Murphy, who, may I remind you, he’d never spoken to before. He would come to me, blushing like a little schoolgirl, talking about how Zoe was in the talent show or how Zoe stepped on his shoe and he thanked her or how Zoe actually factually smiled at him in the hallway. _

Every word, every syllable, every letter is a knife sinking deeper into his heart, twisting as he pens each line. No, he doesn’t deserve that- doesn’t deserve poetry. It’s just heartbreak, nothing special. So why is it everything to him?

He does finish the speech, though, despite how much it makes him want to crawl in a hole and die. Maybe a rat would have little ratlings in the remains of his ribs; that way, he might feel alive. “Jesus, drama queen,” he scolds himself, glaring down at the notecards as if they’d murdered his grandmother. Can he snap out of it for one second? Maybe a minute or two? The answer is no, apparently.

So he doesn’t.

 

The last time Jared saw Evan in a suit, it was a rented one for their college graduation two years prior. Objectively, it probably didn’t look that good on him- not form-fitting, anyway; not tailored- but Jared nearly swooned, taking out Andrej Klement where he stood behind him. One can imagine how he feels now, taking in the sight of Evan in a real, proper, custom-fitted suit.

“You look… great,” he says, lips quirking up into a half-hearted smile. “Really.”

Evan gives Jared a beaming smile that threatens to knock him dead and replies, “Hey, thanks, Jared. That, um… that means a lot.” He turns to the mirror on the wall behind him, adjusting his tie- Jared had taught him to tie a tie, all those years ago, mirroring his own father. His heart is caught between sinking and soaring at the memory; instead, it rips itself in twain, falling and flying simultaneously.

“Jared?”

Jared blinks, shakes the memories like cobwebs from his head. “Sorry. Yeah, what is it?”

“Nothing, you just… I don’t know, you look a little sick.” Evan observes him in the mirror for another moment, then turns around. He takes a step toward Jared and places a hand- more gentle than Jared can stand- on his shoulder. “Are you okay? You can lie down if you want,” he says, gesturing toward his bed. “It’ll be just like old times. Remember when we were little, and we would sleep in the same bed?”

Oh, yes. Jared remembers well. Before there were sleeping bags, before there were insecurities, there was the two of them in Evan’s twin-sized bed, talking about whatever they could think of. There were nightlights, bad dreams,  _ good  _ dreams, hugs-

But now there’s only Zoe and heartbreak and repression and… whatever. Jared stuffs it down and nods, flashing a thankful pseudo-smile and sitting down at the end of the bed. As he crosses his legs, he says, “Yeah, sorry. Ate something that disagreed with me.” May as well be true- he's been stress-eating quite a bit lately; something is bound to make him nauseous sooner or later. 

Evan hums and scans Jared with analytical eyes. Jared always hated that- Evan can get through to him, see past his walls, and it's scarier than anything he's ever experienced before, except maybe when his dad used to yell at him before his parents split. That's different, though. This is so much more… intimate. Relief floods him, however, when Evan says, “Well, alright. I hope you feel better.”

“Thanks,” Jared says, tapping his fingers on the bedspread in a rhythm that turns into the melody of an American Football song. “...So. One month, huh?”

“One month,” Evan agrees, and the dreamy sigh that he breathes is almost enough to break Jared. “Can you believe it?”

“Nah, not really,” Jared says, and fakes a cocky laugh. “I still can’t believe you managed to ask Zoe out without sweating so much it looked like you’d been in a wet t-shirt contest.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “Gee, thanks, Jared. I really appreciate it.” Still, he’s smiling when he adds, “Thanks. Um, for being here for me… like, being my best man and stuff.”

Jared shrugs, scratching the back of his head in mock humility. “Aw, shucks, it’s no big deal. You can always count on Papa J.”

“‘Papa J’?” Evan snorts. “I… am  _ not  _ calling you that.”

“Just give it time,” Jared says. “It’ll grow on you.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever you say.” Evan takes a seat next to Jared at the foot of the bed, and, much to Jared’s delight and dismay, slings an arm around his shoulders. They sit, two friends-  _ just  _ friends- together in the artificial light of Evan’s ceiling fan lamp, for a long, silent while before Jared speaks up.

“I should get going,” he says, shaking Evan’s arm off of him. He stands up, and, when he turns back, Evan is pouting. He really cares that much? Why?

“Alright, well. I’ll see you later. Drinks with Zoe and Alana tomorrow, right?”

“Right.” Jared swallows once, twice, then turns and heads for the door.

 

His first bachelor party ever, and Jared's on the verge of tears in the bathroom. This is great. It's totally fine! Except he hates crying, because he'd rather die than be vulnerable. Sure, his walls have thinned a bit, have gotten short enough for Evan to scale the first, but that doesn't mean they're not there, or that he doesn't need them. Despite his walls, here he is, blinking back tears as he sits in a bathroom stall at the bar nearest to Evan's place.

It's lowkey, for a bachelor party; Evan, of course, was never one for strip clubs or discotheques or anything, so a sports bar it is. There's a soccer match on, the one sport that Evan can stand, so he's probably completely content out there at the bar while Jared's heart relocates itself to his stomach.

...Or not.

The door opens with a squeak, and Jared lifts his head as Evan's worried voice reaches his ears: “Jared?”

Frantically, he wipes his eyes on the short sleeve of his button-down shirt, then clears his throat and replies, “Yeah?”

A footstep. “Um, you've been in there for a long time,” Evan says, his voice closer now. “Are you alright? They kinda put a lot of cheese on your burger; I thought maybe, uh…” He trails off, leaving Jared to grimace at the thought. 

“No, I'm good,” he assures him, and, scrambling for an excuse, adds, “I just, ah, needed a sec to make shit stop spinning. Alcohol got to me a little.”

“...Yeah, alright,” Evan says, and there’s the creak of the door again, alongside receding footsteps.

Jared inhales deeply, then sighs it out, and finds that his eyes are no longer welling up. It’s like magic, if magic really existed instead of it just being him doing his thing- being too emotionally constipated to allow himself to cry. With a small  _ clunk,  _ Jared slides open the stall’s lock and opens the door, eyeing himself in the mirror for a moment before walking out of the bathroom. As always, he’s revolted with what he sees.

 

Another day, another mirror. Jared adjusts the cuffs of his suit as he stares himself down in the glass, un-schlubbified, redone. He’s a different person, practically- not that he feels like one. He’s the same old Jared Kleinman: stupid, depressed, hopelessly in love. It’s not like his life revolves around Evan- he’s got, like, a job and shit that he’s pretty damn good at- but today, when he’s going to be the best man at his wedding? Yeah, today’s a get-emotional-over-Evan day.

Speak of the devil- there’s a rap of knuckles on the door, and Evan’s voice comes muffled through the door: “Hey, you decent?”

“I’m more than decent; I’m amazing,” Jared says, somehow managing to fake his cocky attitude without any cracks- hopefully. It’s six words, how hard could it be?

When Evan opens the door, he’s rolling his eyes, but there’s a giddy smile on his face, one that melts Jared’s stomach lining. “Yeah, alright,” he says, but, when he catches sight of Jared, he adds, “Oh, wow. You really do look good.”

“What, is that so surprising?” Jared musters a laugh, but he can’t help his knees going weak at the compliment. It doesn’t mean anything. Of  _ course  _ it doesn’t mean anything; Evan is getting married in a few hours, for fuck’s sake. Why would it mean anything? He finally glances toward Evan in the mirror, and his heart catches in his throat.

He’s seen Evan in that suit before, sure, but today, on his wedding day, he looks better than he ever has before. He’s clean-shaven, hair done immaculately by the stylist Evan said would be too expensive, but gave in to Zoe’s pleading about anyway. There’s a nervous grin on his face, love and longing written all over it. 

Again, Jared finds himself jealous of Zoe to the point of nausea. If he could reach out, he would; take Evan by the hand and kiss his wrist, right over the scars, and has Zoe done  _ that?  _ Does Zoe treasure Evan the way he deserves? Does she take him by the back of the neck, pull him closer, press her lips to his? Does she, does she, does she…

Jared closes his eyes tight, breathes in, turns around. “You look great, too,” he says, not raising his gaze to meet Evan’s. “You nervous?”

“I’m terrified,” Evan admits, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Like, I sorta, um, puked first thing this morning-”

“What are you, pregnant?”

“Shut up. And then I was considering calling it off, because I was so scared, but, um…” Evan’s smile turns into a grin, and he gives a huff of a laugh. “Jared, I’m marrying Zoe Murphy. Imagine telling that to me in high school.”

“If I rub your bald spot, will some of your getting-laid energy rub off on me?” Jared says, finally making eye contact with Evan; he half-smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Evan goes red, touching the back of his head, and says, “I do  _ not  _ have a bald spot.”

“You’re getting there. Now, answer the question.”

“As if  _ you  _ need help getting laid,” Evan says with a roll of his eyes.

Jared can’t help but laugh at that. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re probably banging Z-Murph on the daily, and I’m over here all by my lonesome.”

“You’ve had, like, a trillion boyfriends,” Evan says. “You clearly don’t have any problems with it.”

Jared sticks his hands in the pockets of his slacks and shrugs. It’s the truth, really- despite everything about himself that he hates (his facial features, his weight, his laugh, pretty much everything about his personality...) he doesn’t really have difficulty getting boyfriends. Too bad he never really loved them. “Well… I’m having a dry spell. So I’ll need the luck.”

“Alright, whatever you say,” Evan says. “Look, I’m gonna go check in with Alana so she can give me a bad pep talk; I’ll see you… well, at the ceremony.” He gestures toward the door with one thumb. “So…”

“Oh. Bye,” Jared says, and waves Evan off, forcing down the stomach bile that rises in his throat. It’s the last time he’ll ever see him as a single man.

 

The ceremony is simple, held at a motel about forty minutes away from Sinclairville, where Evan and Zoe still live. It's a haphazard mix of religious and secular, with stomping glass and a marriage contract but no fancy canopy- Evan had informed Jared that it was too expensive, and, in this case, Zoe was fine with it. Zoe looks gorgeous, of course, but for the life of him, Jared can't focus on her, or even look for more than a few seconds.

“Mazel tov!”

Jared’s voice half-heartedly joins the chorus of excited family members and a handful of friends, rising up to the ceiling in a celebration that is- for the most part- joyous. Jared, of course, is the exception. He’d never been less pleased to hear glass break. Still, Evan looks so damn ecstatic up there, like it's every holiday at once on top of his birthday, and Jared can't help but feel at least a little pleased for him. If just one of them can be happy, he's glad it's Evan.

The next hour goes by in a blur. Jared stands there, hands in his pockets, as people come up to greet the bride and groom- Heidi in particular gives Zoe a tight squeeze and whispers something inaudible in her ear, to which Zoe smiles that gentle smile of hers and says, “Of course.” Cynthia hugs Evan, talking all about Zoe's dead brother and how they would get along so well. Everyone- him, Evan, and Zoe, at least- knows that that's patently untrue, but whatever will make Cynthia happy is what matters the most here.

Jared searches for something to soothe himself in the din, sitting alone at a full table, and, from across the room, his eyes catch a hint of salvation: the bar. “I'm gonna get a drink,” he says to Evan, who nods and smiles for a brief moment before turning back to Zoe. Jared swallows, blinks, then heads off. 

The bartender's cute, Jared muses to himself- scruffy, with big doe eyes and… ah, he looks a little like Evan. Jared would consider flirting, but sex just leaves him feeling empty, and besides, if he's straight, it might get him hatecrimed. Instead, he asks, “Could I get a piña colada? And, uh, is this an open bar?”

“Yeahbsolutely times two,” the bartender answers, and turns to grab a bottle of Malibu rum from the shelves behind him.

Jared slides onto one of the stools and crosses his arms on the shining wooden surface of the bar, resting his head on one of them. He heaves a sigh, but, when the bartender turns back around, straightens up and gives what he hopes is a convincing smile. His drink is mixed quickly and with expertise, and, when Jared takes a grateful sip, the rich taste of coconut bursts forth- against all odds, it actually elicits from him a weak smile. “It's great, thanks,” he says, and grabs his wallet from an inside breast pocket to slide a few bucks over to the bartender as a tip.

One drink in, and Jared is feeling a bit better. His nerves are soothed slightly, his brain no longer screaming at full capacity when he looks at Evan and Zoe. It's been numbed to about an 80%, and so, Jared turns back to the bartender and asks, “Could I get, hmm, a black cherry daiquiri?”

“On it.”

The second drink goes down smoothly. The rum isn’t too overpowering, and the black cherry juice is a stunning example of its kind- not too sour, not too sweet. Jared is starting to  _ really  _ like this bartender and his #skillz. “Another daiquiri?” he asks, and slides a second tip down toward the man who’s looking more and more like Evan. 

The third drink is great, and the fourth, and so on and so forth. Jared’s brain sinks from 80% screaming to 60%, then 40%, then 20%. It’s fucking  _ great.  _ He’s been drunk more than a few times in his life, sometimes out with friends but usually alone in his kitchen, but this time, it’s less out of want and more out of necessity. Anything to stop the yearning, to stop the sickness, to stop the incessant existence of this stupid, stupid, so stupid crush on Evan.

Jared jerks at the sensation of a hand clasping his shoulder, reaction delayed by a few moments. He turns in his seat to see Evan looking down at him. “Hey, it’s about time for your speech,” he says, then glances at Jared’s empty glass. “Did you drink very much?”  
Jared shrugs. “Nah, nah. I’m all good, son.” He stands up and stretches, then takes a wobbling step; Evan gives him an incredulous once-over, but Jared manages to shake him off with a, “Seriously, I’m fine.”

A hush falls over the hall as Evan returns to the table and taps his spoon against his class. “Um, my best friend, the amazing Jared Kleinman, has some, uh, stuff to say,” he announces, and the crowd bursts into applause.

“Thanks, Ev,” Jared says, and clears his throat, looking out over the crowd. Even with his glasses, his vision is blurred; when he takes his notecards out of his pocket, the letters double and redouble in front of his eyes. Well, shit. “Uh… when Evan first laid eyes on Zoe, I know- knew-I knew it was going to be the sssstart of shomething new.” Double shit.

The crowd stares at him, some with narrowed eyes, and a few whispers that he can’t make out rise between them. Jared takes a deep breath in and sighs it out quickly; the show must go on. “I was the first one he ever told, I think,” he says, words slurring together in a mess of consonants and vowels.

“Jared,” Evan hisses, “are you drunk?”

“I’m not dr-” Jared hiccups- “I’m not  _ drunk.” _

Evan’s frown turns into an outright glare. “Jared, if you’re drunk, I swear to God-”

Jared’s eyes widen, and he swallows down rising stomach bile. He was okay, for real, he was, but now Evan is angry with him, and Evan can _ not  _ be angry with him or he’ll go batshit crazy. All he wants is to be loved. All he wants is one single fucking kiss.

The bile comes back. He swallows it again, but it comes back, it comes back, it comes back, just like his feelings, the ones he tried to stifle and shove away for all these years, the ones that will never come to fruition...

“I don’t feel so good,” he says, voice nothing more than a mumble-

And promptly vomits all over the table.

 

Jared awakens to the unmistakable sound of blinds being un-blound- what's the word for that? Hell if he cares right now- and flinches at the sunlight that pours over him. What the hell happened last night?

He's in his own bed, he knows that; Heidi drove him home- an hour drive- from the wedding. He was clearly not sober enough to drive. But why would she drive him home? What happened? Did he-

Ah.

Alright, so he puked all over the table. Including on his wedding cupcakes, alongside Evan's. Splashes and such. Yeah, that might've been a dick move.

“Well?” comes a voice from somewhere above him, and Jared opens his tired eyes. Evan stands, hands on his hips in an almost laughable display of frustration, beside the window, glaring daggers at Jared.

Jared swallows, stares for a moment as he sits up, head throbbing. How can he even begin to apologize? He's never tried before, even for all the times he was a dick to Evan. That was just… their friendship. This, however, is not friendship. “I, ah-”

“Take it,” Evan cuts in, taking a step forward and handing Jared a glass that he hadn't noticed upon prior inspection. In it is an egg yolk, some brown liquid that he recognizes as worcestershire sauce, and a smattering of pepper- a prairie oyster. 

Jared grimaces, but accepts the ‘gift’, though he doesn't drink it quite yet. “Um… why are you here?”

“Because you're hungover,” Evan says, as if it's the simplest thing in the world. There's still a frown on his face, though, and Jared is entirely too sick to deal with these mixed signals.

“But I fucked up the reception. Like,  _ hardcore.”  _ Jared breaks eye contact and stares down at the glass, observing the yolk in all its sunny yellow beauty. “Why would you drive, like, two hours out of your way to check on me? And…” Something dawns on him then. “Um, aren't you supposed to be on your honeymoon? Y'know, with Zoe?”

“It's a road trip,” Evan says. “We can postpone it for a couple hours.” He takes a seat at the edge of the bed and crosses his legs. When Jared finally glances up at him again, Evan's expression is softer, less fed up.

Instead of trying to decipher this, Jared downs his prairie oyster, nearly gagging on the disgusting concoction. He closes his eyes again, attempting to comfort his pounding headache, but a moment later, Evan is clearing his throat in a  _ pay attention to me  _ gesture. Jared settles for narrowed eyes. “I still don't get it,” he says. “Why aren't you pissed at me? Why are we still even friends?”

“Oh, I'm pissed,” Evan says, matter-of-fact. “But you're not going to stop being my friend just because of… ruining my wedding reception…” He pauses. “Okay, so maybe I'm being stupid.”

“Well, that's reassuring to hear.”

Evan gives him a flat look, which Jared nearly crumbles under.  _ “Anyway,”  _ he says, “I just figured… well, I can't give up my best friendship because of one stupid mistake.”

“Ah.” Jared should be pleased to hear ‘best friendship'- it's far better than nothing- but right now, it just feels like a slap in the face. Friendship and nothing else. And it's not like Evan is even straight, so he's fully capable of loving him like that, he just… doesn't. Shaking the thoughts from his head with a bite of his inner cheek, he says, “Uh, well. Thanks. For that.”

“Uh- huh.”

Silence falls over the two of them for a few long minutes, and Jared continues to bite at the inside of his cheek, harder and sharper until it bleeds. Indiscreetly, he spits the blood into his glass, and Evan frowns, concern scrawled on his face. “Um, are you okay?”

“Fine and dandy.”

Evan nods. “Okay. Well, good.” After a few more moments of quiet, he adds, “...So, why did you do it? I mean, I figured you were gonna get drunk, yeah, but not until way later.”

How is he supposed to explain himself? How can he say ‘I got depressed as shit because you chose someone else over me and I've just been fucking around with these heartless relationships and it all came to a head so I drank a shit ton and, like, this is what alcoholics do, so that's great’?

“Jared?”

Jared takes a deep breath in, then lets it out in a sigh. “...You'll hate me for it,” he warns, fiddling with the sheets. “You probably won't want to talk to me anymore.”

“I want to hear it,” Evan says, “no matter what it is. You owe me at least that.”

Jared swallows, wincing as it exacerbates the burning in his throat. “You promise you won't judge me?”

“I promise.”

Jared sighs again and presses his palms to closed eyes until colors begin to dance behind them. “I'm…” Come on. Spit it out, spit it out, spit it out… “Evan, I'm in love with you.”

When there's silence for the next few moments, Jared opens his eyes to see Evan staring, slightly slack-jawed, at him. “I… uh…” Evan blinks, squirming. “I-I had no idea. That's awful.”

Jared's heart trips over itself, and it takes everything in him to keep himself from crying, no matter how vulnerable and pathetic it would make him. “I-”

“Wait, nonononono, I didn't mean it like that,” Evan says, eyes wide, as he flaps his hands in the typical stressed-Evan way. “I just- I love Zoe, Jared, you know that. And it probably hurts that I do.”

Jared huffs a humorless laugh and looks down at the empty glass that's still clasped in his hands. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it, uh… hurts like a motherfucker.”

“So… how long…?” Evan trails off, leaving Jared to fill in the blanks himself.

“Uh… I dunno. Since sophomore year, probably.”

“...Of college?”

Jared laughs again, still numb. “Yeah, I wish. Of high school.”

“Oh, God,” Evan mumbles, and Jared's heart continues to compact itself into his small intestine. “I am… so sorry.”

“It's okay,” Jared says, even though it isn't. Of course it's not okay! He'd rather curl up in a ball and die than have this conversation, or live like this for another day. He's not suicidal or anything, he just… can't go on loving Evan like this.

“You don't seem okay,” Evan says, and scoots closer on the bed.

A burst of frustration hits Jared in the chest, and he glances away, frowning. “I'm  _ fine.” _ He's getting tired of this vulnerability shit. He's spilled his guts, figuratively and literally; isn't that enough?

“Jared-”

Jared pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “You got what you came here for, didn't you? An explanation?”

Evan frowns as well, but it's a frown of concern rather than anger this time. “Well… I'd feel bad leaving you now,” he says.

“Don't,” Jared says, and heaves a sigh. God help him, he loves Evan, and normally he would love talking to him, but under the circumstances? Yeah, right. He'd rather Evan just get the fuck out than go through with this whole ‘being comforted by someone who can't do anything but pity him’ thing.

Evan is silent for a few moments. Then, “I'm sorry. Really.”

“Evan,” Jared says, voice barely audible, “you have nothing to apologize for. Just… get out.”

“What?” Evan's concerned expression turns to one of confusion. “But I-”

“You have a honeymoon to go on,” Jared says as he finally looks at Evan again. “C'mon, man. Leave me to nurse this hangover.”

“Jared, why can't you-”

He doesn't mean anything by it, truly doesn't mean to hurt Evan (emotionally or physically), but, exasperated, Jared grabs a pillow and hurls it at him, hitting him directly in the face. His heart plummets as soon as he's done it, because, when Evan looks back up at him, his expression has yet again morphed into something angry right back at him. 

“God, you can be such a  _ dick  _ sometimes, Jared,” he says, letting the pillow fall to the floor as he stands up.

“I didn't… ugh.” Jared bites back an apology- gotta be tough, gotta keep up that façade- and instead says, “You are what you suck.”

Evan rolls his eyes and turns around, sighing heavily. “You're right. I should leave.” He turns his head to look at Jared out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then walks out the door he's left slightly ajar. “Goodbye, Jared,” he says with little fanfare.

A long pause. Then, footsteps on the staircase. The slamming of a door. A car buzzing to life. Jared swallows a sob and stares up at the ceiling, burdened with the knowledge that he might have just perma-fucked the best relationship in his life.

At least if Evan doesn't come back, he won't have to see him with Zoe anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love you!  
> Obligatory promo for my friend Ithiel's (knourish/OceanicWaters) fanfic "Saints and Sinners Alike", which is even angstier. It's super good, go read it!!


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